


Don't Let Me Go

by H3L



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Dubious Consent, F/M, Horror, Minor Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Out of Character, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 00:59:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H3L/pseuds/H3L
Summary: A horror story.





	Don't Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my usual writing style or genre and, to be honest, I'm not happy with it. Still, I need to get it out of my mind so I can work on something else instead of trying to make straw into gold. Something about posting makes it feel more finished. Be warned, the characters I love to write as honest and lovely and strong are much darker in this story. This has also never been seen by a beta, so all the mistakes are my own (especially my sloppy tenses). Anyway, here it is: a Game of Thrones flavored scary short story.

She stared up at a single light fixture in the cavernous room. It hung from the ceiling by a single, silvery chain. It was vintage looking, like all the others over her head, and was surprisingly warm considering the room it illuminated. _“Not very energy efficient,”_ a little voice tutted at her in the back of her mind. Brienne rolled her eyes at herself and took a shaky breath. She tried to focus outward instead of on her nerves, even though she felt on fire. She would be useless if she let the fear grip her. One more deep breath. And another. And another. She willed her heart to slow it's beat in her chest. She had a long, mind-numbing wait ahead of her. Brienne’s eyes roved around, searching for something to focus on besides the occasional noises coming from upstairs. The walls of the basement weren’t damp like she would have expected. And instead of chipped and cheaply painted concrete, they were a clean gray-blue drywall. Tasteful. The floor was covered in shiny ceramic subway style tiles. The owner of the flooring would have preferred hardwood but was practical enough to know it would be damaged by repeated washings. There was a small, expensive stereo system and turntable with a few neatly tied wires behind the bar. There are also squishy, suede chairs and a couple small end-tables scattered around the room for entertaining. Those had been shoved to the side to make a clean area in the center of the room, where she was laid on her gurney. The stereo was on and hummed lowly, the sound of her beloved Renly Baratheon crooning through the stale air. His band, Dead Kings, had been her favorite for years. She’d even met him once, backstage at a concert in the Stormlands when she was no more than 14 years old. He was the youngest and most handsome of the Baratheon brothers and he’d been kind to her. Not like the people upstairs, not like Jaime. He was rather unkind when he met her. 

The first time she was in this home, in Jaime’s home, it had been unbearably awkward for her. She’d been abandoned after a group outing. She would never have guessed that she would end up in his swank condominium in Blackwater Bay all by herself. That is not a thing that happens to hulking girls like her. Especially considering their first meeting, Jaime had actually addressed her as 'lad' in the employee break room. She'd cringed when she realized he was addressing her. And then his astonishment at her gender, when she turned to him and he realized his mistake, had made it even more cruel. He was not nice after that, seeming to follow her around and take personal delight in insulting her. He tethered himself to her like a malicious storm cloud, until she agreed to become his personal assistant/paralegal. She assumed he just preferred to have exclusive access to his personal punching bag. He would intimidate her, goad her, pester her, and call her names like 'wench.' It was isolating and frustrating. Then, after some months had passed and she was near her breaking point, he stopped. Brienne was lonely quite suddenly. She was friends with some of the other paralegals, Sansa, Arya, and Podrick, but she missed his acerbic presence. She tried to appreciate the freedom to do as she pleased and gather information how she saw fit and to file without being harangued, yet it felt empty. Jaime was her lawyer, he was her personal Lannister in _Lannister, Lannister, and Stark_ , and she was rudderless without him. 

That should have been a warning to her. With his demands for perfection, with his careful and guarded praise, with his knowledge of their cases and his dedication, he had quietly earned her respect. She did not rely on his opinion, but she wanted it. Mutual respect was something Brienne had not experienced a great deal of and hadn't realized she'd actually had until it was gone. After only a week on her own, she sought him out. Brienne had knocked on his door and asked if he would like to get drinks with a few of the staff. He'd enthusiastically accepted and only laughed a little when Brienne admitted she had not yet invited anyone else. She'd scrambled for a way to make it feel less like a date but Jaime did not hesitate, he suggested he and she take out Catelyn and the team for a congratulatory dinner. A case Catelyn had been working had been as good as won that afternoon. The group went to Alayaya's and had proceeded to ply Catelyn with fruity, neon-coloured drinks, much to Tyrion's perverse delight. Podrick ended up having to drive Catelyn home at a tame ten in the evening. Shortly thereafter, Tyrion and Bronn had left together, headed for silk street. Jaime invited anyone who wanted to continue the evening more sedately back to his condo. Sansa, Arya, Brienne, Podrick, and Peck had took him up on the offer. They’d been chatting and she was feeling comfortably warm and welcome, burrowing into the rare feelings of acceptance and camaraderie that the evening had evoked in her. Peck and Pod left first, blaming their departures on girlfriends of whom Brienne had never heard. And only a few minutes later, when Brienne returned to the kitchen from the bathroom, Sansa and Arya had disappeared as well. Brienne's heart had stuttered nearly to a stop behind her ribs. 

“Where are the girls?” She'd queried, hesitantly. 

“They got a Taxi, said you live just a bit over in the Hook. No use heading that way to drop you when they're going to Old Gate. That's all the way across town. I told them I'd get you home or put you up for the night, I've got extra rooms.” Brienne had insisted on leaving and Jaime took it surprisingly well. He didn't argue, for once, but instead agreed to stay up with her while she sobered up. They sat for an hour or two and Brienne listened to him. Jaime had always been very witty at work but never quite genuine, that evening she'd heard more about his childhood and his life than she'd done in the six months since she had been hired at the firm. He painted a picture of a lonely boy growing up on the edge of the summer sea and of a childhood spent jumping from the cliffs and crags into that cold water. He told her of a distant father and a long dead mother. He told her of Tyrion's rakishness and of their beautiful, beloved sister. Brienne struggled to reconcile this man with the man who was essentially her very caustic boss. That evening Jaime had been sincere with her, which he never was. And from then on, after sending her off with a bottle of water and a promise to call him when she arrived home, he was nothing but authentic. His humor, while still biting, included her in the joke instead of making her the joke. Brienne had spent a lifetime thinking men like Jaime did not exist. Perhaps the only man like Jaime, was Jaime himself. Even with her back against the cold steel table, she could think of no equal to him and it broke her heart. Sansa and Arya, much to Brienne’s constant embarrassment, bothered her relentlessly about how she kept Jaime in line. How did she convince him to take them all out for drinks so many nights? How did she keep him happy? How did she tame the savage beast? And they always alluded to a sexual component of the relationship that Brienne did not feel comfortable with. The rest of the paralegals and secretaries at _Lannister, Lannister and Stark_ , the ones relegated to working for non-partners, picked up on that as well. They called her a whore behind her back. The Kingslayer's whore. She knew Sansa didn't want to say anything but Arya couldn't help but tell her, said she'd heard something about Jaime being bored with pretty girls and so he started nailing Brienne. She said the other drones were jealous of Brienne's sway over a senior partner. Brienne tried not to care what they said because Jaime respected her, because Jaime was her friend, because Jaime chose her to work with and saw something special in her. It still stung. Brienne had resolved to do nothing, there is no use confronting people who could not be convinced and she was certainly not going to distance herself from Jaime. She was much too engrossed in him, although she wouldn't have been able to admit that at the time. Meanwhile, Jaime had found out about the moniker and mercilessly blew through the office like a storm. He'd been monstrous and brutal to anyone who spoke ill of Brienne, going so far as to punch Ronnet Connington in the face. Ronnet wouldn't say it, but Jaime told her. Brienne's heart swelled, even as she told him never to do that again and to let her fight her own battles. Then, when she had no where to go because her father was spending the holiday with the family of his new girlfriend, Jaime invited her to their Night of the Seven celebration. He introduced her to the rest of his family and, barring Cersei who was not present, they were glad to have her. His niece and nephew told her about school and his Aunt Genna traded contact information with her in order to set up a brunch date and Tywin Lannister, one of t he most formidable men she had ever met, inquired about her father and seemed glad to hear of her devotion to her family legacy and the island of Tarth. She stayed close to friends like Sansa and Arya but Jaime and his family seemed to monopolize more and more of her time. So much so, that when her father died only a few months later, she called Jaime first. The Lannister's swept in to assist. Selwyn Tarth had money set aside for his burial at sea, so she wasn't worried about that, but Aunt Genna had helped with the arrangements as Brienne had no experience. Tywin Lannister had graciously refused to let Brienne pay for any of the flowers out of her money and even spoke at the funeral, which was more beautiful than she could have hoped. She was so glad her father's memorial was fitting of the man he was. Brienne remembered the days following her father's death anxiously then, her fingers twitched against the leather straps affixed to the edges of the table. She had not once, in all that time, been left alone. If Jaime or another of his family wasn't with her, Arya and Sansa were. They knew how it was to lose a father. She missed them all. 

There was a noise upstairs, clinking bottles she guessed. Renly was still crooning but she was tense, all her muscles locked up like lumps of wet packed sand beneath her skin. The memories lulled her for a while but she was beginning to wonder what it will be like. What will Jaime cut first? Will he peel away the skin? Will he strike a killing blow before he gets his hands inside her or will she watch as he pulls back her ribs?

She can remember clearly how it felt to be touched by him. His warm, dry hands, pushing hair from her forehead. The first time he kissed her on the mouth was terrifying. He'd invited her over to watch movies and when she fell asleep he must have moved to put her head in his lap. That is how she woke up. She started and tried to sit up but he put a calming hand on her shoulder. He told her he liked her where she was. He begged as she sat up, “Don't hurt me for this,” and kissed her. He'd taken her arms and lifted them over her head to remove her shirt. Jaime'd been methodical and authoritative, but checked with her repeatedly. Is this okay? His mouth on hers. Is this okay? Her pants undone. Is this okay? His fingers moving in and out of her, unhurried. Is this okay? He eased himself between her legs and sunk into her, his cock full and thick. He'd taken her on the couch with one leg on the floor to give himself leverage and kissed her when he spurted his seed. When they were done and she'd tried to scramble away, embarrassed, he pulled her back and bent her over the arm of the same couch and whispered harshly to her not to leave him. He gripped her ribs with both hands and pressed gnawing kisses from the lower dip of her back, over her ass, to between her legs. He licked her until he was hard again and then she braced herself as he entered her again. It had been unexpected but not unwelcome. She was not accustomed to being desired but Brienne was no coward. She met him head on. They began something of a courtship, in secret. He’d smile and behaved the same at work or with his family and their friends but every moment they were alone, he was on her. The speed at which he disarmed Brienne was shocking. Everything Sansa and Arya and the rest of the office had said was true. She hated lying but she knew she couldn't admit to them the truth, she had no desire to be the Kingslayer's whore again. She even contemplated breaking it off but an affair is hard to stop once you’ve started. At the time she didn't realize the true lack of choice. As he led his hand over the curve of her sacral spine, her knees had opened instinctively, and he must have known she was his completely. “I love that term, _Apex Predator_ ,” he’d said one evening with his hand wrapped around her throat, his cock buried in her deeply enough that she was squirming in near discomfort. “To be the most dangerous predator, the predator that all the other predators fear.” 

Brienne shuddered against the cool metal and listened to the click-clack of shoes and the opening and closing of the coat closet. She listened to the creak of the hardwood floor. They were entertaining, as planned. The two of them: the lovers. Two halves of the same whole. He was warm and charming, she was cool and imperious. Brienne could feel the weight of them above her, walking across her chest like concrete slabs. Soon they would come for her. Soon it would be time for the real entertainment, she thought. Her eyes watered to remember the first time she had met Cersei. 

The summer night was sweltering. The two had been drinking all day to celebrate a win, iced sangria, and talking about legends of the first men. Brienne had a minor in history. He had kissed her and said he needed to tell her a secret. She smiled as he leaned away and then, without hesitation, he called out into the house. “Sweet sister, it's safe to come out now.” She froze. When Cersei came out onto the back patio she was wearing a red sundress and her lips matched the fabric. He nails were manicured and her smile unnerved Brienne terribly. She stumbled off her chair, her limbs scrambling to catch up with how quickly her mind was working. She told Cersei it was a pleasure to meet her. Cersei laughed, it was a sweet tinkling sort of laughter, and it made Brienne's blood rush in her ears. Jaime explained that when Cersei was in Westeroes for the three or so months she spent there every year, she stayed with him. Brienne blinked. 

“This is your new love?” Cersei asked Jaime, pointedly. 

Brienne narrowed her eyes at the strange tone but Jaime and she had drank quite a bit, and she was unused to wine in any form. She brushed off her nerves. Jaime stood up and moved to stand behind Brienne, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Isn't she perfect for me?"

It was only a few days before she saw Cersei again. She went to the condo to meet Jaime after her workout but he was running late. Cersei was alone and asked Brienne to sit down. She took Brienne's hand and led her to the couch. “I want us to be as sisters, Brienne. Jaime's happiness is _very_ important to me.” Her sharp nails ran up and down Brienne's arm. “Of course it does,” Brienne confirmed, “I – I want that too.” Her stammer gave away her nerves but Cersei was gracious. “Wonderful,” she said and leaned over, kissing Brienne gently at the corner of her mouth. It was unusual but Brienne's only sister had died in childbirth, so she did not know what was strange and what wasn't. She accepted the kiss and all future kisses bestowed on her by Cersei. She also accepted when the twins kissed each other. It was strange to see the siblings kiss one another on the mouth but the two seemed chaste enough and comfortable enough that perhaps, Brienne thought, it was just the way of that family. Cersei spent several weeks at the condo with them before leaving to return to Braavos. She assured them she'd be back sooner rather than later, she had business interests with the Iron Bank that needed her hand briefly. 

For weeks Brienne had not thought of Cersei and Jaime had not mentioned her. And then, after an evening out at the movies after a particularly grueling day, Jaime'd brought Brienne home to stay the night and Cersei met them at the door. She was in a silk negligee and Jaime reached out, as Brienne hung her light jacket awkwardly on the coat rack, not to hug his sister but to graze the swell of her breast. The gesture was unmistakable. With his fingers still clutching Brienne at the waist, he leaned towards Cersei and kissed her on the mouth. The kiss was long and deep and nothing like Brienne had seen up until that very moment. Cersei sighed through her nose. Brienne yelped and tried to move but Jaime was strong, strong enough to hold her steady. He broke the kiss with his sister, his twin sister, and leaned back. He turned, his fingers like a vice at her hip. “Please, try to understand, wench. You mean so much to me. You saved me. I couldn't not share this with you. Cersei is my other half, as I've told you, and she cares for you a great deal. Nearly as much as I do.” Brienne shuddered in revulsion. Jaime had reached out and took his sister's hand, pulling her closer. The woman obediently stepped forward and knelt at Brienne's heeled feet and very carefully ran her hands over Brienne's long legs. She leaned forward, her blonde hair moved as a single sheet of gold to obscure her face as she kissed Brienne's thighs. Jaime held Brienne still, using both hands then as Cersei's hands slid up Brienne's modestly cut work skirt. It was fitted and Cersei rucked up the fabric and her tongue lapped at Brienne's skin and then slowly pushed the cotton panties aside and pressed against the juncture of Brienne's thighs. Brienne was soon panting with a mixture of desire and horror. Cersei took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. She roughly tore at the crotch of the undergarment until it ripped and she buried her face between Brienne's legs. 

Upstairs they were laughing and it broke her concentration. Brienne was embarrassingly wet, she grunted in frustrated shame. The amount of footsteps was dwindling. People were leaving at a steady pace and her frayed nerves anxiously fired over and over. She was shaking. She didn't know who had been invited to the little fete hosted by the Lannister Twins, just that the guests would likely find it odd that Brienne wasn't there. Jaime had told her, laughing as he fiddled with the table's straps to test their strength earlier, that he would explain to his guests that she had taken ill with a cold and was quarantined in her apartment. Her body was heavy as she laid on the table and awaited their return to her. There could be no other end to the night, not with her waiting for them in that cold room. She wished she was in her apartment, sick and under the covers like Jaime would convince his guests. Though she hadn't slept there in months. It was dusty but the rent was always paid and likely no one in her building noticed her absence. But she couldn't get back there, not ever, not after that night. They had taken weeks to prepare her for it, easing her into their strange world. Then, one night, it happened all at once. “I need something from downstairs,” Cersei said, her hand carding through Brienne's hair. Brienne, for her part, was not wholly comfortable with the arrangement but was too dedicated to Jaime to contest it. And Cersei was such an aggressive lover, so passionate, that Brienne responded to her instantly. She blushed for days whenever Cersei was near her, which seemed to please Cersei immensely. And she almost preferred to make love to Brienne without Jaime around, she was as insatiable as her brother. “Have we showed you the basement yet, darling?” She’d asked, knowing full well that they hadn't as Brienne would have run screaming. Cersei led her down the stairs, the lights white above her golden head. She felt safe all the way down the steps, felt safe as the twins showed her the stereo and the mini-fridge. Her big blue eyes slid over the tarpaulin sheeting and metal table, the stainless steel cabinets and the tools. She saw but did comprehend the cages and the saws, scalpels and needles...they had all manner of sharp and dangerous things. Her eyes moved over them and only looked to Jaime. He'd poured her a drink, an Old Fashioned with Dornish cherries, and Brienne leaned into his kisses. He'd fucked her there, while Cersei watched, with the strips of worn leather digging into her bound wrists. She should have run then. She might have gotten away if only she had seen what was around her. Or perhaps they would have shoved her into a cage had she balked. She'll never know because she hadn't balked, she had tumbled into the snare. She'd always known Jaime was a predator, she'd seen him in the courtroom. She should never have underestimated his killer instinct. And his sister, Brienne had felt immediately that she was dangerous. A lion and lioness. Brienne had wanted to be a part of that, only she'd forgotten that lions eat stupid little girls. That is why she was there, waiting for him patiently with the light swinging over her, even though she knew that they would be the end to her. Her stomach coiled with anticipation when door at the top of the stairs creaked open. Cersei's voice echoed into the room. 

“Have you never seen the wine cellar? Jaime, you're a terrible host. My wine collection is one to rival Highgarden! This way,” she instructed and Brienne could hear a female voice answer. “I should have known, you have such a distinguished palate.” Her mind screamed for the woman to run, Taena Merryweather it sounded like, but Brienne's mouth stayed shut. It wasn't a lie, there is a wine cellar, but it is not accessible from the inside. The cellar is attached instead to the patio. Very inconvenient in the winter but King's Landing is mostly temperate. “Jaime had it built for me right after he bought the condo,” Cersei supplied helpfully. The door closed behind them, Jaime's steps followed. Taena came into view behind Cersei and she saw the room, _really_ saw it. Her eyes widened with alarm, the fear plain on her face. And the more terrified she became the more brightly the glow was behind her eyes. Brienne's skin was hot and she blushed as Taena took her in. She must have been a sight to behold, her large frame draped on the table in repose and the thick leather straps swaying. When Brienne sat up to watch more easily, Taena began to cry and to scream but Jaime was holding her from behind and tucked a cloth neatly into her mouth. Taena had long falls of dark black hair, too dark in color to be natural, and she was thin. She had slightly bucked teeth that were obscured by the blue. Taena struggled meakly, it was more than Brienne ever did but they had been so much more careful with her. They had wanted her, truly. Taena was simply a gift for her. The woman kicked and clawed and her tall heels were flung off in the bout but Jaime held her. 

Brienne felt a flicker of pity sink into her stomach like an iron fish but she swung her legs over the side of the table and stood. Jaime peered from over Taena's shoulder, “Wench!” he smirked. He could see she was nervous and was trying to be winsome. Brienne wrung her hands as Jaime pushed the struggling woman onto the table and Cersei went about her, fixing the straps. Cersei was grinning toothily as she sidled up to Brienne while Jaime pulled a cart over to the table. “Are you very excited?” She asked darkly, going on tip toes to kiss the base of Brienne's neck. “Terrified,” Brienne mumbled back, biting her lip. Cersei told her not to be, said that it would bring them all so much closer together. She reminded Brienne of the story of Maggy, her's and Jaime's first victim. How the twins had pushed the old woman down a well near their childhood home for finding out the two were lovers, having caught them in the act. She shivered as she told Brienne how elating it had been and how passionately they had made love after. Cersei slid a hand over Brienne's bottom and promised that night would end similarly. 

Jaime came over to them when he was finished and wrapped his arms around Brienne's thick waist. “Are you ready?” He asked her and placed a kiss on her temple. She nodded woodenly. “Good, I believe you've met Taena.” He gestured to the sobbing mess on the table. Her mascara ran down the sides of her face like jagged bolts of lightning.

“Hello again, Taena,” she heard herself say. 

Brienne knew some night they’ll grow tired of her, some night she will be on the table. Or Cersei. Or maybe even Jaime, her lion. Some night, but not that night. That night her lovers took a pair of scissors from the cabinet and together they cut off Taena's black trousers and silk blouse. And when Jaime put a hand to the small of her back and whispered in her ear, his lips grazing the soft hairs of her neck, Brienne shushed Taena gently. “It’ll get easier,” Jaime breathed into her hair, before placing a rather long lancet in her hand. 

“Don’t let me go,” she begged him quietly.

“We’ve got you,” Jaime said, his fingers wrapped tightly around Brienne's to guide her. Cersei was smiling benignly down at Taena across the table. Her own gloved hand held a shorter scalpel. He pressed his lips to her ear again and she could feel his smile. “I’ve got you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! Thanks for reading.


End file.
